


Phoenix

by Colaris



Category: Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: ArkhamVerse, Batman - Freeform, Friendship, Love, M/M, Romance, dc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colaris/pseuds/Colaris
Summary: Edward got a call to meet Jonathan at an old funfair in Gotham. //Scriddler
Relationships: Jonathan Crane x Edward Nygma
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: A crow finds a riddle in the dark





	Phoenix

Edward hissed almost in annoyance and stared lost in thought through the loose grating of the rusted barricade fence, slowly crossing his arms over his chest. On the other side of the fence there was hardly anything to be seen in the darkness. The overgrowth had also caused a dense jungle to develop on the former funfair over the years of vacancy, which even in daylight did not offer any insight into the general condition of the old site. Only a few dilapidated stalls stood out like memorials from the tangle of bushes. The tinkerer frowned. Why on earth had Jonathan called him to this place out of all places possible? There were surely countless better alternatives in Gotham for a one-to-one conversation or whatever the elder was up to that night. The Riddler sighed in frustration and lightly massaged his tensed forehead. As usual, the Master of Fear had not been particularly precise or even elaborate with the details of the meeting. The very short text message only mentioned the large main tent in the middle of the funfair, where Jonathan would be waiting for him around midnight. Not more. Literally nothing. The black-haired grumbled cautiously and stepped closer to the fence, clasping his fingers tightly in the holes in the brittle metal. How the hell was he supposed to fight his way safely through this terrain? Edward circled his shoulder once and finally, groaning, began to climb up the barrier, always trying not to crush any weak spots with the heavy work boots. The ramshackle fence tended to give way. The impressive height of three meters hardly made it any better in that sense, as the metal gradually bent backwards once Edward reached halfway due to the weight of himself. The black-haired man clung tighter into the grille and shimmy further up, looking down at the top to make out a safe landing point. This decision was promptly made for him by the damaged cordon. The fence buckled unexpectedly quickly with a loud crack, tore the tinkerer down into the wild undergrowth. Edward's cry of surprise echoed briefly through the darkness, but was lost in the loud croak of the startled crows. These piled up into the pitch-black sky and sought the distance. The villain got up, cursing, freed himself from some loose branches that had wrapped tightly around his legs during the unpleasant fall. He growled irritably: “Fucking hell, John. If you don't have a good explanation for all this crap here, I'll turn your neck with my own hands."

With these words he brushed some dirt off his tattered pants and stared into the darkness around him. What creatures might be wandering around him in the blackness? The inventor pulled the dark green parka tighter around his shivering figure and pulled a small flash light out of his jacket pocket, illuminating the overgrown path in front of him. He would somehow find his way through. Probably. The black-haired man climbed over countless variations of bushes, trying not to get tangled in the wildly growing thorns. His clothes were already a bit worn by some unpleasant encounters with the Dark Knight in the last few weeks and would no longer withstand further violence. Batman seemed to be on his period right now and was watching the villains in the underground even more suspiciously than usual. It was practically impossible to take a step in Gotham without facing the furious Bat. Maybe that was why Jonathan had chosen the old funfair to meet. Even the self-proclaimed superhero had his preferred catchment area and anything too far outside of it was mostly ignored in good faith. Edward smiled a little. Carelessness didn't really go with the Dark Knight. The Scarecrow in particular had long been aware of this fact and had adapted successfully, which enabled the stubborn psychiatrist to pursue his sinister plans completely undisturbed. In addition, there was probably the sad advantage that Batman still believed the Master of Fear was dead. The tinkerer was panting hard. It had taken ages to patch up his favourite accomplice in a reasonable way and to treat the deep wounds that the whole incident with Croc had torn in his soul. During those long weeks, Edward had actually come to appreciate the elder. His presence had been strange at first, no question about it, but Jonathan literally exuded an aura of calm and serenity to which the Riddler had got used in a very short time. Things that had previously driven him to white heat suddenly no longer affected him so much or were pushed aside and ticked off more quickly.

The black-haired man couldn't deny that he now really preferred the company of the former psychiatrist, even if he wouldn't go so far as to describe it as enjoying it - even if this formulation was most likely much closer to the truth. The inventor grinned a little. Which normal person could tolerate the compulsive tinkerer on a daily basis and constantly occupy himself with the jumping thoughts in order to somehow make sense of the lively man? Up until now, Edward had always believed that he had to lead his life on his own, as no one was willing to deal with him more closely and to give him undivided attention for more than half an hour. This probably applied to most of the people around him as well. To everyone except Jonathan. The younger one was all the more affected when one morning the Master of Fear was suddenly no longer in his hiding place and in an admittedly long letter explained in detail that he would have to find himself for a while and needs space. The mind of the inventor knew that the brown-haired man had no bad intentions with these words and that this decision had absolutely nothing to do with him, but still an unexpectedly deep wound had occurred. To be abandoned by loved ones was such an established, almost routine part of his life that Edward threw it back on the harsh reality in Jonathan's case - nobody would consider him good enough and after extensive use or exploitation simply throw him away again. As much as the black-haired man resisted this way of thinking, in the end the doubting thoughts won. This was kind of stupid. It was really more than understandable for the former psychiatrist that he wanted to stay to himself for a while. The older one was blind on one eye and was otherwise severely restricted in general body function due to the serious injuries. To cope with this new situation took immense strength and the brown-haired man could gather it best when he was alone. Jonathan was the ongoing definition of a loner. A good three months had passed since that fateful day. They had only exchanged text messages sporadically during that time. The tinkerer shook his head slightly. If he looked at it soberly, the Scarecrow actually only responded to repeated, really persistent inquiries and then only with monosyllabic answers. One had to constantly get on the nerves of the brown-haired man to get a reaction. The black-haired man was all the more surprised to read the older man's SMS that morning. Edward blinked in the dripping darkness and smiled triumphantly as the thick undergrowth finally cleared before him.

Several wooden booths and smaller tents emerged that had once amused crowds of people. Now these remnants of civilization are abandoned and lapsed into oblivion to their miserable existence. The inventor strolled through the long streets, shining his flash light over and over again at the remains of a once lively place. Somehow this eerie environment suited the former psychiatrist. As the Master of Fear, he had long since made a name for himself in Gotham, and even now, when people no longer believed in his existence, the mention of his alias spread fear and terror among the population. Jonathan, like many other villains of the underground, was a negatively influenced superstar of the modern age, a figure people feared but who secretly liked to read and tear their mouth about in the tabloids. The Riddler was no different on this point. People loved or hated him, there were only two possible directions. Basically it was relative to the black-haired man what the lower population said about him. Most importantly, they should talk about him a lot on the news and admired his unmatched ingenuity, even if they mostly described him as insane, crazy, or eccentric. Mental limitation inevitably led to far-reaching misunderstandings, but Edward now knew how to correctly interpret the seemingly stupid comments of the unicellular organisms around him. If the idiots didn't manage to express their enthusiasm in an understandable way, the Riddler had to pick the cherry on the cake himself. In the distance, the inventor caught sight of the large, red and white striped main tent in the centre of the funfair, small beams of light emanating from the four openings in the tarpaulin. At least the Master of Fear was actually waiting for him. The younger rubbed the back of his head and turned off the flash light. He was almost ashamed to question the brown-haired man's intentions again, but that was how he was. The inventor hummed softly. The first drops fell from the sky on him and slowly wet his clothes. Actually, they hadn't announced rain. Fantastic. This only made the man flee into the tent faster. Inside it was unusually warm for the cold season. The wildly distributed straw in the ring probably contributed a considerable part to keeping the temperature at a comfortable level. Edward yawned softly and slowly stepped closer, froze when he suddenly heard the clear voice of the older man sing. The black-haired man shuddered suddenly. Jonathan had a strange undertone in his voice, a hidden message that resonated in his words and that would remain hidden from most people.

One sentence from the Master of Fear could tear a well-functioning mind to pieces or cobble together a troubled mind. This was entirely up to the Scarecrow. The tinkerer breathed a little faster and ventured further inside, actively looking for the other. Jonathan stood on a small elevation in the middle of the tent, three spotlights were directed with glaring bright light on its narrow figure. His face looked relaxed and at the same time composed, an expression the tinkerer had never seen before in his otherwise frozen facial expression. The black cloak was tight around the thin body, warming the pale skin and protecting it from unwanted looks from curious outsiders. His body was a complete wreck covered with endless scars. The former psychiatrist had closed his eyes as he sang his lonely song in oblivion. Edward came to a stop in front of him, looking up at his frequent accomplice and now a good friend. Suddenly the thin man smiled crookedly and slowly opened the healthy opal. The icy blue stared straight into his soul. Jonathan finished the last line of his chant and tilted his head slightly, then said calmly: "Edward. I hope you will forgive me for the difficult circumstances you probably had to get here. Nevertheless, I am pleased to see you in good health."

The addressee raised an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest again. He had the strong impulse to react in a snap, but that had never had any effect on the older man. Contrary to his feelings, he calmly replied: “I'm used to that with you, aren't I, John? So how can I help you, Scarecrow? You will hardly have brought me to this godforsaken place just to see if I am okay.” The brown-haired laughed, chuckling and shook his head. He stepped carefully off the stage, then gradually faced Edward. The Riddler trembled slightly. The former psychiatrist knew of its intimidating effects and used them regularly. This time they were less than three feet apart. Up close, the inventor could see all the small and large scars on the pale face. Deep cracks ran across the pale skin. Immediately his heart started beating faster in his chest again. The Riddler couldn't explain it, but being physically close to the gaunt man got his blood pumping and sent his mind on a roller coaster. The two of them had felt a deep bond during the weeks they had lived together. How many times had they looked each other and just didn't know what to do next? There was seemingly an invisible boundary between them. A limit that no one had dared to cross before. The black-haired man studied the older man's face, then clenched his fingers into fists. He knew what he should have done on the countless occasions. And now? Was it too late for that? Jonathan had deliberately wanted distance, but the extent of this desire was not yet entirely clear to the inventor. The Master of Fear suddenly spoke softly: “I certainly didn't have to bring you here for that, this is correct. The reason is of course different. I want to ask you to just listen to me for the next few minutes, Edward, without interrupting me. You can of course ask as many questions as you like afterwards, okay?” The Riddler frowned, but slowly nodded in response. This was an unusual request of his friend.

The brown-haired man took a deep breath and started speaking again: “Now where should I start? I think in the beginning. We both haven't forgotten how our relationship developed in the weeks following the Arkham incident, and I can't deny that it scared me at first. When the confusion got out of hand, I had to sort myself out and rearrange all of my thoughts and, above all, unknown feelings. This may have seemed like a cold hearted rejection for you, but in the end it was necessary to finally dare to take this step.” With these words, the Master of Fear stepped even closer, closed the last distance between them. Edward could feel the warm breath of the older man on his lips, and felt how the resulting thick fog wafted into the ring. The surrounding area was slowly hidden under a thick, living wall. After a while, the inventor wasn't even able to see a meter further, but that wasn't even his goal any more. His body was focused on the thin man in front of him. Jonathan cleared his throat and whispered barely audibly: "Edward, I have made a momentous decision for myself, but what I am asking you now requires the consent of both concerned." The leathery hands of the former psychiatrist were unexpectedly gentle on the Riddlers cheeks, tenderly caressed the oil-smeared skin. The brown-haired man continued: “I have learned how pleasant it can be to live with you and how much I am gradually lonely over the years. With your liveliness you showed me a new, interesting perspective. Your opinion on certain things made me think and I can no longer avoid wishing for more intense interactions with you. But no longer just as friends or accomplices. There has always been an unusual attraction between us, but we have never been able to describe or explain it in detail. I think after everything I've gathered over the past few weeks, I can say with great certainty that I have deeper feelings for you. I missed you and even with a certain waiting time this grievance didn't go away, it basically just got worse. I..."

Edward had surprisingly put his index finger on the former psychiatrist's torn lips. He shook his head and made it clear that the older one should be silent now. The brown-haired man seemed to understand the request, which he made clear with a simple nod. The icy blue stared deep into his own. The tinkerer swallowed hard and leaned forward, closing the last remaining space. In doing so, he crossed the invisible border, brought down all lines, laws and rules that they had built up over the years with one deed. Inside, the inventor could hear the crowd around them applauding in the stands, even if, of course, no one was physically in the tent. His fingers found their way to the Master of Fear's bony cheeks, drawing him closer to him in that kiss that was soaked with longing. At that moment something old was broken. The facade of an unusual friendship lay in ruins on the straw, from which something new slowly rose like a brightly shining, burning phoenix.


End file.
